


Marinara on Main

by RyunnKazan



Series: Mariana on Maine [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pizza, maybe? - Freeform, smut later, working on that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyunnKazan/pseuds/RyunnKazan
Summary: AU-Mr. Gold has a crush on the Belle French, the pizza delivery girl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just something to lighten up the Rumbellers! We will get through this

Prompt: AU! Mr. Gold has a crush on the pizza delivery girl, Belle.  
Song of Choice: Duality by Set it Off

-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle French fiddled with the dials of the heater of the near-destitute delivery car that belonged to her family’s pizza parlor. Not only was it cold enough that her fingertips were numb, but the insulation bags that were supposed to keep the pizza warm were the cheapest of the cheap.

French Bread Pizza, despite its elegant name, was far from gourmet. Customers would claim that the marinara could use more garlic or that the crust could be a little thinner, but these customers also didn’t want to drive the three hours to Boston for Domino’s or Papa John’s so they made due with Storybrooke, Maine’s sole pizza parlor.

Many would also claim that it wasn’t just the pizza or the retro arcade games that kept the business going, but the small and insanely attractive staff.

There was Merlin Knight, head line cook and advice-extraordinaire, who did magic tricks at the community center on his days off. Then there was prep-cook Jefferson Hatter, single father and, if anyone wanted to give their honest opinion, a little off his rocker but still an overall great guy. Next to last was Will Scarlet who only applied for the job so that he could pay for the wedding his fiancé deserved but still enjoyed the work.

And lastly, there was Belle French, the owner’s quiet but immensely friendly daughter, who was known to sneak a novel or two when she wasn’t helping knead dough or taking inventory of the stock. She was hardworking and extremely beautiful, even when she had flour in her hair or pizza sauce streaked on her cheeks.  
She was also Moe French’s pride and joy, and though he had excepted her anti-social behavior long before the business had taken off, wished she weren’t such a permanent fixture in the kitchen.

“It’s not healthy for you to work here all day and night. You should be out with friends, find a boyfriend…or girlfriend. Whatever gets you out of the house, dear.” 

“I rather translate Gilgamesh.” Belle had retorted good-humoredly. 

Truth be told, Belle did indeed have her eye set on someone (and she had already translated Gilgamesh in three different languages, thank you very much). It was someone she knew she didn’t have a chance in Hell with, but it was still nice to simply fluff and groom the possibility that something could come from her little crush.

Her pulse began to pick up as she turned the corner into Storybrooke’s richer district where Belle’s customer/crush awaited for his pizza. She noticed that the engine was starting to make a thumping noise and prayed that the old car would last until she got back to the restaurant.

Moe had bought the piece of junk from a poker buddy when they started the delivery service (despite everything in Storybrooke being walking distance everyone still would rather have someone deliver their dinner). Business was doing well, but between rent and supplies, money was always tight and there was never enough to get a car that worked.

As she pulled into the driveway, the front door open and her crush’s 15-year son came bounding out.

“Bae!” her crush called as Belle put the rusty car in park, “Don’t run up to a car like that, son!”

Bae waved off his plea and waited for Belle to unfasten the pizzas from the insulation bag.

“Mr. Gold.” Belle greeted with her brightest smile. 

“Miss French.” Mr. Gold returned cordially.

Every Friday for as long as French Bread had been open, Mr. Gold would order a medium pie with pepperoni, spinach, and pineapple. And absolutely no mushrooms. Apparently Mr. Gold’s son was highly allergic, which he had made abundantly clear with his cane the day former line cook Killian Jones carelessly left two shroons under a piece of pepperoni and Baden Gold had to be rushed to the emergency room.

Thanks to a calm intervention from Belle, Mr. Gold relented not to sue the business then and there as long as Jones was fired and stricter health codes were enforced. 

All that was left of that encounter was a dent in the front counter and an air of fear in the restaurant every time Mr. Gold ordered his pizza.

And a bit of lustful lip-biting from Belle.

Though she had been drenched in guilt and terror the night Mr. Gold had nearly shut down her livelihood, there had been something acutely arousing about seeing him in an angry daze, hair flying and teeth bare. It awoke something in her that she hadn’t felt before, a weight in the pit of her stomach that was different but not unwelcomed.

Since then, she was the only one brave enough to take the well-inspected pizza to Mr. Gold’s, and it was a responsibility she gladly accepted.  
The first delivery after the incident rendered an apology to Belle, and Belle only, for his forcefulness in the restaurant. 

“I was frantic and I took it out on the wrong person.” He had said with a nod to her. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that; it was hardly your fault.”

Belle wanted to tell him that his rage had created a sexual awakening inside of her and not to worry, but instead accepted his apology as well as the ten-dollar tip he gifted her.

After that, Belle made sure she was readily available to deliver his Friday pizza. Each delivery would go the same: his son, who Belle noticed had his father’s striking whisky eyes, would accept the pizza and leave her and Mr. Gold to have casual banter until her beeper would alert her that there was another delivery to be made.

They watched Mr. Gold’s ever growing son bound back into the house, carrying an additional pizza this time.

“What’s the occasional?” Belle inquired, leaning against the hood of the car. 

“Bae’s having friends over in an hour and you know how teenagers inhale food like fresh air.”

“Don’t I know it.” Belle giggled, recalling how the guys could inhale any leftover pizza.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment as one of them thought of the next subject of conversation. Belle shivered as she thought for something to say. It was early October and already in the fifties. Though she was in long-sleeves she hadn’t grabbed her jacket and goosebumps were spreading across her body. 

“Are you cold, Miss French?” Mr. Gold inquired. 

“I’m fine.” Belle fibbed, leaning further into her rundown delivery car for warmth.

Wordlessly, Mr. Gold removed his overcoat and stepped closer to throw it around her shoulders. 

Belle began to protest but was cut off as he soothed the lapels over her required uniform shirt. 

“It’s too cold to be riding around without extra layers, Miss French.”

Belle’s entire body buzzed with euphoria at the feel of his fingers grazing against her upper chest. She was standing less than a foot from him surrounded by his warm, rustic-smelling, cotton greatness. It was a right-out-of-a-novel scenario come to life. Would it be too bold to ask him into the back seat?

The car made another wheezing sound and Belle’s face heated with embarrassment. She wanted to kick the damn interrupting thing down the street.

“You really should get this hunk of metal seen about.” Mr. Gold nodded to the little yellow bug with French Bread’s logo on the side. “It sounds like it’s on its last leg.”

The butterflies in Belle’s stomach turned into dusty moths as soon as the words left his mouth. 

What was she thinking?!

She was a pizza delivery girl with a scrap metal car with flour and marinara sauce under her nails.

He was a successful businessman who could do so much better than her. What could she offer him? Coupons for a reduced pizza? The smell of brick ovens and flour all over his expensive clothes?

Belle lowered his gaze, feeling more foolish than she ever had in her life. 

“Miss French?” Mr. Gold questioned as she bolted from his touch and into her greasy car.

“I have to go.” She protested, turning the key anxiously. “Other deliveries.”

Mr. Gold watched with concern as the car refused to start. He flinched when Miss French began beating her small, cold hands against the wheel. He was ready to usher her out of the car when the hunk of metal blessedly started and she sailed down the driveway and down the street.

He stared after the eyesore and contemplated running after it. It was certainly going slow enough.

Instead, he went back into his warm home so that he could think about his idiocy. 

“What did you do?”

Mr. Gold shot around to see his son leaning against the kitchen counter, soda can in hand and an unamused expression on his face.

“How many of those have you had?” Mr. Gold pointed to the can.

“…not the point.” Bae circled the counter. “You were supposed to ask her out and drive away into the sunset or whatever romantic crap you grown-ups do. But you’re still here and she barely dodged Mayor Mill’s mailbox getting out of the neighborhood. What. Did. You. Do?”

Mr. Gold rolled his eyes and took the unopened can from Bae’s hands, replacing it with a water bottle.

“Ugh.” Bae groaned, relenting to the beverage change. “Look, Dad, I can’t play wingman for you forever. You need to ask her out now before one of those hunks at her job does.”

Mr. Gold looked at his son amused, wondering if he got his word choice from his friend Emma or if his suspicions were correct and Bae was turning a curious eye on his fellow sex. 

“It might be for the best.” Gold shrugged, taking a seat at one of the bar stools. “She’s too young to end up with an old monster like me.”

Bae frowned and climbed up on the opposing stool. “You’ll never know unless you ask her, Dad.” He leaned in closer as if there were a third party in the house to hear. “And she’s not like Mom was.”

Mr. Gold glanced at his son in near-awe. He hadn’t sugar-coated his ex-wife’s infidelity and initial abandonment of the family and Bae had handled the whole mess quite maturely. Since then, he seemed intent on finding his father a mate, which amused and worried him. Was it normal for teenagers to be so involved with their parent’s love life? 

“You two spend thirty minutes just talking every time she comes here. You smile all night when she leaves. You need to give it a shot Dad.”

Mr. Gold smiled at his son. He was wise beyond his years and completely right on the matter. He did like Miss French. He liked her smile and her descriptions of the new book she picked up every week. He liked how there was always flour on her shirt or cheek (and how he always had the urge to lick it off).

But she was so young with an entire world to see before she settled down. She deserved someone with stamina, not someone who had threatened her livelihood. 

And, oh god, someone who wouldn’t embarrass her on her transportation. 

“If you don’t mind having pizza tomorrow night, I’ll ask her then.”

“I never mind pizza a second night.” He took his water bottle and headed for the living room. “And don’t become a crappy tipper if she says no!”

Mr. Gold dropped his water bottle. Damn it all he insulted her car and didn’t even give her a tip! He’d never see her again!

Did he even pay for the pizza?

He felt around for the bulge of his wallet but only felt the layers of clothing that were under his overcoat.

His wallet was in his overcoat.

His overcoat was on Miss French.


	2. Chapter 2

Prompt: AU! Mr. Gold has a crush on the pizza delivery girl, Belle.

0-0-0-0-0

Prompt: AU! Mr. Gold has a crush on the pizza delivery girl, Belle.

0-0-0-0-0

Belle rubbed away frustrated tears as she eased the dying pizza delivery car into French Bread’s parking lot. She was cold, humiliated, and wanting nothing more than a hot bath and enough leftover pizza to make her forget Mr. Gold for the night.

She wanted to be angry at him but she knew that he hadn’t been trying to insult her social status. He was simply pointing out that her car was about to give out and that she should replace it, nothing else. But it still made her notice their differences and she knew he must have seen them as well.

With some difficulty she managed to turn into the parking lot of French Bread’s where her dim headlights landed on her co-workers Jefferson and Will Scarlet, there arms loaded with pizza boxes and insulation bags.

 “Hey Belle!” Will called out, “You’re not going to believe what…” He paused when he saw the lifelessness on her face. “You okay?”

Belle managed a strainless smile. “Yeah just…the car’s acting up again. It’s embarrassing.”

Jefferson smacked his lips and leaned against the car. “I think we just need to shoot her and put her out of her misery.”

Belle scoffed tiredly and leaned against the hood of the car. “You find us another car; I’ll supply the bullets.”

“Save your bullets for later.” Will said. “We got a huge order coming in Belle.”

Belle perked up. Good news at last.

“From who?”

“You know how the mayor has one of those benefit…balls…rich people things every month?”

“Rich people.” Belle muttered bitterly.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t she usually order from Granny’s for those things?”

Jefferson smirked like he had just gotten away with murder. “Well Granny-dearest just happened to run out of lasagna tonight so BOOM!” he gestured to the tower of pizzas. “Casual Friday Pizza Night!”

“That’s great.” Belle rejoiced. Things were finally turning around. “Let’s load these up and…” Belle paused as the car under began to tremor, steadily at first and then violently enough that Belle was forced to jump off.

Jefferson wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her away, Will beside him.

“It’s okay Belle, it always does that.”

Suddenly, the hood flew up and spat out acidic-smelling flames.

“It always does that too.”

Belle jerked from his arms and ran to the back door and screamed for Merlin.

In less than ten seconds, she, Merlin and Will were siccing fire extinguishers on the enflamed car. Jefferson remained in a daze and no one bothered to slap him out of it.

Finally, the fire was out, but the car, the very thing her livelihood relied on, was a pile of burnt metal and rubber.

Belle looked around at her co-workers, then at the stack of pizzas, then at the car, then at her co-workers again.

“W-where’s dad?” She trembled.

“Boston.” Merlin husked. “Looking at new pizza ovens.”

Belle nodded, pacing off the shock and smell of burnt metal. She looked at the guys. Merlin was already on his cellphone calling the sheriff or Moe. Will was moving the pizzas back into to the restaurant to keep them warm just a little longer.  Jefferson was still rooted, watching the smoke with a spectacular sense of awe.

“Jefferson.” Belle sighed. “Come on, snap out of it.” She put her hand on his arm and gently shook him. “Please Jeff, I need all the help I can get right now.”

Jefferson’s hand glazed her, soothing over her fingers and sliding to her wrist. His shocked expression changed to one of confusion and he looked down at her.

“Belle, who’s jacket are you wearing?”

All the panic and shock in Belle’s mind froze. She now could notice the jacket around he was satisfyingly warm despite how she was trembling, how if she turned her head to the collar she could smell the rustic scent of his cologne. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head in pleasure.

And then realization kicked in.

She had hightailed in out of Mr. Gold’s so fast that she hadn’t given him back his jacket.

And subsequently caused the pizza delivery car to give out.

“Mr. Gold.” Belle gasped.

Jefferson eased away from her, looking her over as her hands subconsciously played with the lapels, her eyes turning back to the smoking car. He followed her stare and then looked back at her. And then the jacket. Then the car again.

“Oh God.” Jefferson gasped.

“Now what?” Will stepped in.

Jefferson pointed a trembling finger at Belle. 

“You…Gold…”

Will looked at Belle and finally noticed the foreign clothing on her frame.

“Oh my God you slept with Gold and took his jacket!”

“N-no!” Belle yelled. “I did not sleep with Mr. Gold!”

 Merlin appeared beside her. “You slept with Gold?”

“No she didn’t sleep with Gold damn it!” Jefferson yelled. He threw his arms out to the singed car. “She killed him, stuffed his body in the trunk and set the car alight to destroy the evidence!”

“…What the Hell Jefferson!” Belle shrieked.

“Oh Belle come on.” Will exclaimed, “You didn’t have to destroy the car. We would have helped you bury the body. Damn!”

Belle threw her arms up in the air and stalked to Merlin who looked as exasperated as she.

“We’ll have to light it again!” Jefferson reasoned. “The fire didn’t spread to the back; the body didn’t burn. Someone find me a damn gas can!”

“Shouldn’t we burn the jacket?” Will inquired.

“Right! But empty the pockets first! There might be candy!” He grabbed Will and the two ran to the back of the restaurant.

Belle felt like curling up on the ground and screaming. Her co-workers had lost their shit, her father was across the state, and she had a stack of pizzas that were cooling and a high-maintenance mayor who would surely ruin their business after tonight.

She was done. French Bread was done. If Gold didn’t think she was nothing before he surely would now.

Before she could start wailing, Sheriff Graham’s police car and a firetruck eased down the street toward the restaurant. Just as it was about to turn, a black Cadillac cut it off and sped into the parking lot.

Belle of course recognized the vehicle and froze on spot.

Mr. Gold jumped out of the car, sparing a glance at the emergency personnel but focusing on the burnt pile of metal that Belle had been driving just an hour ago.

Horror filled his gut and he nearly threw up from relief when he saw her across the way, looking unbelievably small and unharmed in his jacket.

“Belle!”

Belle shot around to run into the restaurant but Merlin stopped her, forcing her back around.

“Be brave Belle.” He whispered, nudging her ahead so that he could deal with the fire department.

She stumbled and stopped as he limped to her, having left his cane in the car. She was certain he was going to rip his coat off of her and accuse her of being a thief, maybe even motion Sheriff Graham over to have her arrested.

“Mr. Gold, I-”

Mr. Gold dove down on her, wrapping his arms around her frigid frame and squeezing her as if he were never going to see her again.

When he had seen an unusual amount of smoke above French Bread’s and then firetruck heading towards it, he truly believed he wouldn’t. All he could think of was how she had ran from his yard, how he had made her feel embarrassed over her car and how that could be her final impression of him.

Now she was in his arms and he was never going to make her feel ashamed about anything ever again.

Belle slowly melted into his embrace. Months of scenarios about their first physical display of affection were so insignificant compared to now. He was holding her so close they could almost weld together, whispering apologies into her hair (which she was probably sure smelled of burnt oil but he did not seem to care one damn bit) and making her feel so alive.

Mr. Gold pulled back, trailing his fingers over her cold face. “Belle, I’m…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did about your car. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.”

Belle shook her head, her whole body humming with unabridged happiness. “It wasn’t the car. I just thought that…I was worried you saw me as less because of my station. I thought maybe you were out of my league.”

Mr. Gold scoffed. “If anything you’re too good for me. You have so much life and love to give, and it’s all a waste for someone like me.”

“Don’t ever say that.” Belle scolded. “You nearly tore our restaurant apart over your child. I don’t know of many people who would do that.” she ran a finger down the edge of his tie. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

Mr. Gold smiled. They could have had this talk months ago and prevented an explosion or two, but he wouldn’t trade this moment for the most elaborate of scenarios.

Later, when this was all over, he’d apologize more properly over dinner, but for now they had this moment and that was all he needed.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the romantic couple from their daze. Merlin, who had borne witness to their testimony, looked amused but also heavily stressed.

“This beautiful and I want full details over drinks later, but we still have 30 plus pizzas and no way to deliver them so we could really use a plan right now.”

Belle immediately snapped back into panic-mode. She had zero clue what to do. Everyone lived within walking distance and left their cars at home. Even if they carried them the three miles to the mayor’s house, the pizzas would be stone-cold and their reputation would be annihilated.

“30 pizzas you say?” Gold spoke up. “I’ve carried twice that much in my son’s soccer balls. Start loading them up in my car.”

“What?” Belle and Merlin exclaimed.

“I shouldn’t have let you drive off in that thing, Belle. I’m going to help you get through tonight.” He smiled. “And also, I’ve dealt with the mayor during her moods on several occasions. You may need me to coerce her to hand over the check.”

Belle nodded and, since Will and Jefferson were still on their quest, she, Gold, and Merlin began to strap pizzas down in the trunk.

“You want me to ride along?” Merlin inquired, waving off the fire trucks.

“You should probably be here to talk Jefferson out of being an accessory to murder.”

Merlin nodded and embraced Belle in a final hug.

“Thank you.” Belle whispered to him.

“You better come back with dinner plans.” He replied with a nod at Gold. He released her and closed the door as she settled into the Cadillac, waving them off as they sped to the mayor’s mansion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They made it to the mayor’s mansion in record timing, Belle jumping out of the car while Mr. Gold unlocked the trunk.

She had her hand poised to knock when the door swung open and revealed a very displeased mayor.

“You were supposed to be here 30 minutes ago! My guests are starving.”

Belle gulped and readied for the rest of the lashing.

“My apologies Madame Major, there were some…unforeseeable obstacles.”

“Life is full of unforeseeable obstacles, Miss French, and I won’t be…” the major paused when Gold came limping up the stairs, his arms full of pizza boxes.

She smirked then, mischief flashing in her dark eyes.

“Mr. Gold, I didn’t realize you had taken up a side job as a pizza delivery boy. The economy’s not that bad off is it?”

Mr. Gold gave her a condescending look while Belle skirted back to the car for the rest of the pizzas.

“Or is this your idea of a date?” The mayor teased. “You certainly could have done better.”

“Regina,” Mr. Gold growled, making sure Belle was still occupied before he continued, “if you dare try to embarrass Miss French over this mishap, I promise you the only thing you will ever be able to order in this town again will be a cup of coffee from the gas station.”

The mayor’s smirk dimmed at threat, but her spark for mischief reignited when Belle hustled up the stairs with the rest of the pizzas.

She looked shyly at Mr. Gold and then at the mayor. “Your receipt, Madam Mayor.”

The mayor grinned like she was about to hatch an evil plan. “Miss French, do your really expect me to pay you for tardiness?”

Belle bristled. “I apologize again Madame Mayor, but as I said there were some unforeseeable obstacles and-”

“Perhaps,” the mayor interrupted, “if you had spent more time focusing on your customers instead of…” she looked Gold over with a gloating sneer, “whatever he is to you, then those obstacles wouldn’t be so unanticipated, now would they?”

Belle did not appreciate being talked down to like an imbecile but held her tongue in hopes her silence may render the mayor’s mercy.

She looked at Gold, her eyes pleading. _You said you could help me._

Instead, Mr. Gold was looking past the mayor into her home where her elaborate partiers mingled about.

Belle’s stomach dropped. Did he wish to be in there instead of with her? Was he going to leave her on the porch with 30 unpaid pizzas which she would probably have to carry all the way back (because Gold would not lend his car to someone who had set her own on fire just an hour ago)?

Just as Belle was about to demand an explanation from him, Mr. Gold’s entire face lit up and he stepped more into the mayor’s doorway.

“Mal! Could that be you?”

A tall striking blond who had been sipping a drink by the staircase looked up, glowing at the site of Gold.

“Goldie Locks, what a treat!” She pushed past the mayor and kissed Gold’s cheek. Her eyes instantly fell on Belle and the young girl flushed under her relentless gaze. “And who’s this lovely dish?”

Belle shrunk back but found Mr. Gold’s arm stalling her plans to dash.

“This is Belle of French Bread’s Pizza. She had some car trouble this evening and I was assisting her with her deliveries.” He motioned to the massive stack of pizzas.

Mal’s eyes lit up and she launched at one of the boxes.

“Finally! I’m famished.” She bit into a slice of Hawaiian pizza and moaned so vocally that Belle blushed.

Mal grabbed a couple of boxes and headed inside. “Bring her around more often Goldie Locks.” She bumped the mayor with her hips. “Regina, pay the woman and come back inside.”

The mayor’s face heated crimson as Mal called for assistance for the rest of the pizzas.

“I believe,” Mr. Gold leaned over the crumpled receipt in the mayor’s hand, “that the total is…” he clucked his tongue repeatedly as he read the paper, “$272 for 32 pizzas, plus the $15 delivery fee…” he clucked his tongue again and the mayor’s glare intensified.

“Just round it to $350. The lady deserves a nice tip.”

His straight stance had a finalizing air, and the mayor hissed an unprofessional curse and snapped around to grab her checkbook from the mudroom. She was back in a minute and shoved the check into Belle’s hands, slamming the door without a ta-ta.

Belle stared at the check before turning her awe-struck gaze to Mr. Gold. He was smirking at the closed door, cockily proud with how things had played out.

He turned to Belle to congratulate her on a job well done when he saw the look on her face. Was she revolted by how he had handled the situation? He knew he may had been cold towards the Mayor but he thought he kept his harshness PG compared to how it could have been.

“Miss French,” he hesitated, “I apologize if-” He found himself abruptly (and wonderfully) cut off by Miss French’s lips searing into his, her hands tightly woven into his collar.

Three things went through Mr. Gold’s mind as he relented into the kiss:

  1. She tasted of garlic and the cold. It was all he ever wanted to taste.
  2. Bae was going to have a field day when he told him about this.
  3. Was this going to fast? Was she going to regret this when they came up for air?



Before any more thoughts could enter his oxygen-deprived head, Belle pulled away, staring into his eyes with a gleeful hunger.

“You were incredible!” she gasped, soothing out his collar. “You knew exactly what to say, how to move her! I was so scared you were going to just…” her eyes lowered shyly; she shook her head.

“I was wrong to doubt you.”

Mr. Gold wanted to reassure her, tell her that any doubts or misconceptions she had of him were rightly placed if she deemed them so, but his lips were still tingling from her kiss.

“Oh no.” Belle shuddered. “I’m sorry for kissing you. I just…you were…”

Mr. Gold reached out carefully and soothed the lapels of her coat. His coat. His coat that was not coated with her warmth and scent. Would it be wrong to feel like he had claimed her? Like he beat all the odds that were against him?

Before he allowed himself to chicken out, he leaned down and kissed her again, taking in her unique taste and grazing over her waist to keep her steady. Belle moaned against his lips, resting her hands on his arms.

A banging beside them caused them to jump apart. The mayor was glaring at them from her window.

 _Get off my porch!_ She mouthed before shutting the curtains.

Belle laughed good-naturedly. “I have a feeling she won’t be doing much business after tonight.”

“Her loss.” Mr. Gold smiled, his fingers absently playing with one of her curls. Her eyes lowered in a blush and he wondered how someone as beautiful and loving could exist at the same time as him?

She deserved so much better, but here she was in his arms. He would make it up to her. Soon, tomorrow or the next day, he’d start fresh and take her somewhere nice, somewhere where, God willing, there was no pizza.

But for now, they had this moment, and he wanted to indulge it.

 “Would you…” he coughed nervously, pulling back to allow them both some much-needed breathing room, “like to…um…get a bite to eat or…coffee?

Belle bit her lip in anticipation. She had waited for him to say those words for so long, abet in a more romantic setting and her in something that wasn’t her work uniform, but considering the grotesque amount of chaos that went constantly reared its head in their lives, this was perfect.

“I happen to know a pizza parlor up the road that has subpar pizzas but a pretty great atmosphere.” She suggested.

Mr. Gold laughed and Belle feared he wouldn’t want to be seen in her dowdy business.

“I’ll probably be having nightmares about pizza for the next week.” He commented. He placed an arm gently around her waist and led her off the mayor’s doorstep.

“There’s a 24-hour gas station around the corner that sell’s limited edition chips and acceptable cappuccinos. Care to partake?”

Belle leaned further into his embrace. “I would love nothing more.”

He smiled and led her to the car.

“Oh wait!” Belle exclaimed. She rummaged through the pockets of his coat and pulled out his wallet. “Consider your next ten pizzas paid for.” She shoved her hands into the pockets. “But I’m keeping this coat.

They got back in his Cadillac and drove away, one of the parties laughing at the others comment at how the car had a lingering smell of melted cheese in the seats.   

-.-.-.-

Moe French pulled into the French Bread's, whistling merrily from a very good night of business transactions.

He couldn’t wait to tell his team, especially Belle. The additional businesses would allow him to hire an extra employee or two, meaning his girl could get some much-deserved days off for socializing. It would also mean he could get rid of the metal death trap she delivered pizzas in.

However, as Moe pulled into his beloved business and saw the car, the very car his daughter drove on a regular basis, all plans of the future halted just as his car did.

“Where’s Belle!” Moe howled when he entered the shop.

Merlin looked up from his counting at the register. “She’s fine Mr. French.”

“But the car-”

“Exploded. But Belle found a way around it. She finished her deliveries and took the rest of the night off with Mr. Gold.”

Moe French fell into one of the booths, sagging with relief.

“I’m too old to get frights like this.” As soon as his heartrate leveled out, he replayed Merlin’s words.

“Did you just say my daughter is out with the man who threatened to shut down my business?”

Merlin paused his counting. “…yes?”

Moe gaped at him.

“I’ve been gone for barely a day. What the Hell else happened?”

Merlin shook his head and stepped around the counter, throwing a brotherly arm around the dumb-struck man’s shoulders.

“Come to the back Mr. French. I’ll explain everything over that bottle of Merlot you have hidden behind the tomatoes.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Mr. Gold's date post-car fire and pizza delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this back in December, but never had the courage to post it. Now with Order in the Court and a couple of other events coming up, I need to get my fluids flowing! Hope it’s not too bad, and more (hopefully…I’m promise) coming soon!!

 

Belle and Mr. Gold left the 24-hour gas station arm-in-arm with careful grips on their steaming cappuccinos. Belle took the bag of their goodies from him as he opened the passenger door for her, blushing when she smiled at him. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat.

He cranked up the car and got the heat going while Belle unloaded their snacks. As she said, the gas station had limited edition chips. She chose wavy cucumber and olive oil and Mr. Gold chose cheesy chili flavored. There was a Apollo bar for them to share later.

Belle began to fiddle with the radio until she picked up a classic music station. She let her seat back and opened her bag of chips, rolling up the sleeves of Mr. Gold’s jacket to avoid getting dust on the material.

“And then,” she continued with the story she had begun telling him. “we were all on beer #3, Jefferson and Will were out so it was me vs. Merlin.”

Gold took his bag of chips and kept his eye on Belle. “And then?”

“Then,” Belle said around a chip, “he kept smirking at me while he drank, like he knew he was going to win. Honestly, I really thought he was. Two is ultimately my limit and he seemed so steady, smug little arsehole.”

Mr. Gold chuckled, knowing her relationship with her co-worker was loving and platonic, though, apparently slightly unprofessional during after-hours.

“But then,” Belle said after a sip of her cappuccino, which was still too hot to handle. “he stopped smiling and dropped his beer, and passed out right there on the table!”

Mr. Gold nearly spat crumbs on the steering wheel. “Was he alright?”

“He had a killer hangover the next day, but he lived. And I got the day off the next day per our bet!”

Mr. Gold nodded his head, loving that she would divulge a tale of her wilder side to him. He had dreamt of moments like these for months, of taking her out and listening to her stories and enjoying her company. Of course, they were in a fine restaurant surrounded by candlelight and small portioned but expensive foods in those fantasies, but he wouldn’t trade their chips and coffee in his car for all the 5-star restaurants in the world.

Belle leaned back in her seat, crossing her worn tennis shoes on the dashboard. If it were Bae or anyone else, he would have told them to get their shoes off his car before they left a mark.

“I’m glad took we did this.” She said, reaching over and taking hold of his hand.  

Mr. Gold smiled, squeezing her hand gently. “I am too Belle.”

His smile melted when her expression went from blissful to stressed.

“What is it?”

Belle sagged into the leather seat. “I was just thinking about how after tonight it’s back to struggling. My car’s gone. I know Storybrooke’s not that big, but there’s a lot of tough terrain in this area, and I am far from a pro-biker to deliver them on wheels. Not to mention the pizzas would get cold with those poor insulation bags. ”

Mr. Gold nodded, mentally searching for a solution for her plight. He could offer her the loan for a new car, but he did not want to add pressure to her financial struggle. Belle was reasonable, but she had a tough-as-nails pride. She even insisted on splitting the cost on their meager midnight snack.

Another idea came to mind but he hesitated to express it. While it wouldn’t necessarily offend her pride, it might offend her tolerance of him. While they had expressed a mutual fondness for each other earlier tonight (his lips were still tingling from her spicy kiss), he did not want to overwhelm her with his presence.

“I may have a suggestion…if you’ll allow it.” He stated, feeling unabashedly unprofessional with cheese dust on his fingertips and coffee breath.

“Oh?” Belle inquired with an arch of her eyebrow.

“Perhaps…you wouldn’t mind the use of my car.”

Belle’s eyes widened, truly taken aback by his offer. “Oh. Wow. That’s so generous.”

Her tone didn’t sound irritated; that was a good sign, he hoped.

“But I can’t.” Belle rejected. “It’s illogical. Your leg…” she trailed off, unsure if his limp was an off-limit subject or not.

Mr. Gold shook his head. “I have a very tall bodyguard who wouldn’t mind escorting me back and forth.”

“Mafia much?” Belle chuckled. “But what about Bae?”

“He can carpool for soccer practice and school.”

“What are you going to do when it’s time for him to inherit the car? I don’t want you to hand it to him covered it pizza stains.”

Mr. Gold smirked. “My son has already expressed his displeasure at inheriting this “dinosaur”, as he’s labeled it.” He gave the dashboard a fond pat. “She’s all mine…and yours, subsequently.”

Her fingers danced across his hand nervously. “I really don’t know.”

“Belle,” Mr. Gold sighed. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were in a reliable vehicle.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Belle confided. “You’ve been my hero tonight, but I don’t need handouts or charity.”

That stung enough that his hand clenched over hers.

“I just mean,” Belle corrected more gently, “I don’t want that to be the basis of our relationship.”

“I’m not doing this out of pity or a sense of charity. I’m doing this because if you had been in that car when it exploded, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me.”

Belle frowned but understood his logic. She hadn’t given any thought of what could have happened; she rarely did. She wanted to focus on the present where Gold’s hand was wrapped around hers, his jacket hanging off her frame, surrounded by leather and soft music.

It was worth getting used to.

“I’ll consider it on one condition.” Belle agreed at last.

Mr. Gold arched his eyebrow in amused query. “What kind of deal did you have in mind?”

Belle smirked at his teasing tone and snatched his near-empty bag of chips from him. “I’ll borrow your car—just long enough for the insurance check to come in—if you ride along with me when you can.”

Mr. Gold stared at her in surprise, but not displeasure. He had hoped that with the loan of his car she would stop by his shop between deliveries or on her lunchbreak. But riding with her as she took pizzas to their destinations, talking with her or listening to the radio in comfortable silence as they drove, sounded much more enticing.

“You sure you can put up with me that long?” he asked teasingly, though he was concerned for the answer. He would never want to make her feel forced to bear his presence just for the use of his car.

“Only if you think you can handle me.” She retorted, taking a gingerly sip on her cup.

 Mr. Gold lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it slowly and longingly. Somehow it was more intimate than the two kisses they had shared earlier that night, and the light in Belle’s eyes glistened with the same emotion.

“I think I can handle being with you just fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Mr. Gold deliver a pizza during a rainstorm and things get messy. No not in a smutty way but one day.

Saturday’s were surprisingly very slow for French Bread’s Pizza Parlor. The business usually got less than ten walk-ins and rarely any calls for delivery after 8:30.

It was because of this usual pace that Belle decided to leave early for a date with Mr. Gold. She had been using his car for deliveries for nearly two weeks, and subsequently unofficially dating him as well. Belle felt embarrassed to call their relationship that in such a way. Since he had lent her his car for the business, they had managed a few rendezvous but nothing longer than a twenty-minute lunch date in his shop.

Worse yet, their physical affection was starved. Other than the fiery kiss they shared on the night of the car explosion and a few quick pecks whist Belle was running off to deliver another order, they hadn’t kissed at all!

She was determined to change that. She was going to Gold’s shop at 7 and take them to a small casual Italian place just outside of Storybrooke. She would bury her phone if she had to so that they wouldn’t get interrupted.

She brought her change of clothes with her to the restaurant and Merlin had promised enthusiastically he’d close up shop.

“Red or blue scarf?” Belle inquired as she finished getting ready.

“Red.” Merlin suggested as he worked on inventory.

“No you will not!” Jefferson exclaimed as he jumped off the counter, snatching the offending cloth from Belle’s hands. “Blue’s the only color for you.” He shot back to Merlin. “Do you want them to break up!?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and closed the refrigerator.

Belle giggled and tied the scarf around her neck. With it she wore a sky-blue blouse with a brown skirt and burgundy tights. She rarely got to dress up and it was one of the few outfits she owned that didn’t have remnants of her work on it. She wanted to look good tonight, wanted to look like she belonged beside Mr. Gold rather than clashed against him. It always embarrassed her during the rare times they got to be in public together where she’d be in her work uniform and him in his well-tailored suit. He never said anything but Belle didn’t want to him to be mocked because his girlfriend had flour on her shirt.

“What time is it?” she asked for the tenth time that hour.

“Not 7 yet.” Merlin laughed. “We won’t let you be late.”

“I know I just…I really want things to go smooth tonight. We’ve been dating two weeks and we’ve hardly spent any time together.”

“You know, you can have more time off it you want.”

Belle sighed. “It’s **my** family’s business. I can’t leave it in your hands.”

“You work too much!” Jefferson called from the front of house. “I know it, your dad knows it, the whole town knows it!”

“I’m taking the night off, aren’t I?” she called back to him, leaning on one of the ovens to slip on her heels.

“You look great.” Merlin assured. “Why don’t you go ahead and head out? We have one more carryout and then we’re closing up shop for the night.”

“Take an umbrella.” Jefferson said as he finished sweeping the front. “Looks like a storm’s coming in.”

Belle felt worry twist in her gut. While she loved the rain, she hated thunder and lightning with a passion. She hoped it stayed calm until they at least got to the restaurant.

“Okay, see you guys Monday!” she yelled as she grabbed her purse and looked for the keys to Mr. Gold’s Cadillac. Just as she found them, a sleek black car pulled up and a familiar figure stepped from the passenger seat.  

“Gold!” Belle cheered, balancing herself in her heels so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

“Thought I’d meet you halfway.” He winked. “Second date and all.”

She laughed and pecked his lips. “Yes it is.”

“I’ll see you on Monday, Mr. Gold.” The towering driver of the car disclosed, nodding politely at Belle.

“Goodnight Dove.”

The couple watched the tall man duck carefully back into the car and drive off.

“Ready to go?” Mr. Gold inquired as soon as he was gone.

“Oh yeah! Do you want to drive or-”

“Belle!” Merlin called out the door. “Hold tight a second!”

Belle felt a brief wave of panic roll through her. Mr. French and Will were off today, were they okay? Before the thoughts could get more sinister, Jefferson came trotting out with a pizza box, turning sheepishly to Mr. Gold.

“Hey Mr. Gold!” he greeted with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about the whole attempting to burn you in the car thing two weeks back.”

Mr. Gold smiled humorlessly at his apology. Belle had told him about how Will and Jefferson had been willing to set the former French Bread car alight after they jumped to the conclusion that Belle had killed him. Though he had found it a bit disturbing that the men who handled his food on many occasions were willing to commit cold-blooded murder, he was grateful Belle had such dedicated friends on her side.

“Jeff,” Belle cut back in. “why is there a pizza in your hands?”

Jefferson smiled sheepishly. “Our carryout changed it to a delivery at the last minute.”

“No!” Belle protested. “Not going to happen. I’ve been planning this all week and there is no way I’m wasting anymore time!”

“Belle, it’s okay.” Mr. Gold reassured gently.

“No it’s not!” Belle interjected. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I know you say you don’t mind but eventually you will and then we’re going to have a big mess on our hands!”

Gold clasped her dancing hands. “I made this deal with you Belle. Not just for your business, but so that I could see you every day, even if it’s just for a moment.”

“Yeah but…”

“And what was your affix to the deal? That I would ride along with you one in a while? Looks like today is that day.”

Belle scoffed and pressed a kiss to her lips. “How did I get so lucky?”

Mr. Gold pulled from her lips, dazed. “I’m the lucky one.”

“And I’m confused but oddly turned on.”

Belle and Gold turned back to the forgotten Jefferson.

“What’s the address?” Belle inquired as she took the pizza from him with a glower.

“It’s that guest mansion on Madison Lane, the one that writer from Boston is renting for the summer. I forget his name…”

“Isaac Heller?” Belle gasped.

“Heller.” Gold mused. “Why is that name so familiar?”

“He wrote that fantasy novel _Heroes and Villains_.” Belle explained as she put the pizza in the insulation bag and buckled it carefully into the back seat. Overhead, a mass of dark clouds were rolling in. Thunder barked distantly and Belle a chill go up her spine.

“Ah!” Mr. Gold nodded as he turned the car and windshield wipers on. “I think Bae read it when it made the Times list. Don’t remember him getting too excited about it however.”

Belle waved a smirking Jefferson off and climbed into the driver’s seat. “There wasn’t much of it to get excited about.” Belle sighed as she adjusted the heat.

Gold faked-scoffed and gave her an appalled glance. “Belle French bad-talking a book?” I never thought I’d see the day!”

Belle laughed and smacked his arm playfully. “It wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ book. It’s just…what started out as a simple plot turned into a void of underdeveloped characters and plot holes that just went on forever.”

“Sounds like an overcomplicated mess.”

“Indeed.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, fat droplets of rain began to pound against the windshield and Belle slowed her driving.

“Don’t get nervous.” Gold warned as the rain increased.

“I’m not, just don’t distract me.” Belle mumbled as she tried to navigate through the sheet was water. She clenched harder on the steering wheel, trying to keep her nervous feet steady.

“Belle, just turn over.” Gold ordered after a moment. “I can’t even tell if we’re still in town.”

“I can see the road.” Belle protested, her heart beating just as loud as the rain. “We’ll be fine.”

“Belle please!” Gold pleaded.

Belle hesitated before easing on brakes and edging onto the side of the road. At least she thought it was the road. One second there was ground under the wheels and the next the Cadillac was flying off the side of the road.

Belle and Gold screamed as they flew down through the air, the only thing keeping them from flipping was the slick, muddy slope that they finally landed on, sliding through the trees until they finally crashed.

_Belle?_

_Belle!_

Belle didn’t want to listen to the voice. All she wanted to do was sleep.

_Belle please wake up!_

Wait, was that Gold? Why did he sound so scared?

She forced herself to come out of the foggy darkness. She felt pain and cold all around her, but finding Gold was more important.

Her vision began to clear and the look of pain and horror on Mr. Gold’s intensified.

“Oh Belle, thank God! Can you hear me sweetheart?”

She tried to nod her head or speak but she only had the strength to blink.

“Okay, don’t move Belle. Just stay still and try to stay awake, I’m going to try and call for help.”

She watched him struggle to get out of the car. The vehicle was nearly on its side and the door slammed in her face as he crawled out of the passenger seat.

Now in her silent aloneness, she could attempt to pull together where she was and what was happening. She was in the car—the car she crashed—and Mr. Gold was struggling to get help for that mistake. From what she could see through the rain-coated window, they were deep in the woods, far away from the town and help they needed.

She wanted to rise from her seat and help Mr. Gold, apologize for yet again inconveniencing him but she couldn’t move.

She literally could not move.

She could blink and even felt her eye twitch but she couldn’t lift her head from the steering wheel or move her arms or legs. She wasn’t in pain or even very uncomfortable. She was just numb.

She could hear Mr. Gold’s frantic voice just behind the car. He was okay and getting help. Knowing this kept her calm.

And helped her fall asleep when the painless cloud of exhaustion flooded her senses once more.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry for the angst, but it gets better...I hope..yeah...LEAVE ME ALONE I'M TRYING!


	5. Rising Crust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-accident; Belle once again finds herself in a jam.

The first thing Belle noticed when she awoke was the lack of cold and wetness that had seeped into her bones. The next was the nauseating light overhead. She could just feel her skin prickling under the starchy blanket on top of her. She could hear a buzzing sound to her left that soon blended into the scratchy brogue of Mr. Gold.

 “And what about the CT? Did it find any damage?”

“She’s going to be fine Mr. Gold. Like you, she needs plenty of rest.”

“Has anyone contacted her family?”

“They can’t because of the storm-”

“Blast the storm! I carried her two miles through that storm and you mean to tell me you can’t pick up a phone and dial a few buttons? Worthless, all of you!”

“Mr. Gold, if you do not calm down right now, I will call a nurse in here to take you back to your room!”

Belle’s head began to ache from the thunderous sounds and decided she needed to break things up before her head exploded. She tried to turn her head but found it encased in something that stalled her movements. She tried to lift her arms next but found them so stiff that she couldn’t even twitch a finger. Luckily, the two men across the room noticed her struggling.

“Belle!” she heard Gold gasp, following a squeaking sound, like wheel’s turning. Then his bruised face was hanging over hers, blocking out the lights overhead. His left eyebrow was stitched and his socket was dark purple.

Belle wanted to cry at the site.

_I did this._

“Oh Belle, Sweetheart can you hear me?”

“Y…yeah…” Belle whimpered, trying to wiggle out of the cocoon of blankets wrapped around her.

Gold’s good eye bulged and he shot around to the doctor.

“What’s wrong with her!”

“Mr. Gold, you know I can’t give you that information.”

Gold wheeled himself to the doctor, grabbing the man’s tie and yanking him to eye-level.

“Listen to me you little rat!” Gold spat. “If anything happens to her I will bury you under this hospital! Hell, I will bury you under this town!”

The doctor shot from Gold’s grip and stuck his head out the doorway.

“Nurse! Take Mr. Gold back to his room!”

A nurse appeared and went straight for Gold, her hard eyes telling him he could not intimidate her so easily. She grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and began to wheel him out of the room. He fought hard, trying to put the breaks down and grab at the walls but the nurse pushed him on.

“Belle! Everything’s going to okay, I promise!”

Belle had never had a panic attack before, but she felt one bubbling as Gold’s yells got further down the hall.

“Wait, no bring him back!”

The doctor stood over her, his eyes filled with pity as he pulled a syringe out of his pocked.

“This is going to help you sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep I want to see him!”

She screamed at her limbs to move but they wouldn’t. She was completely helpless to the darkness that clouded her vison.

-,-,-,-

The next time she awoke, things were calmer, quieter. She could hear the beeping of her heart monitor and the sound of people walking back and forth just outside the room. She still couldn’t move her neck and was forced to stare at the ceiling.

“Hello?” she called out, hoping the doctor or a nurse—or better yet, Gold—would hear her.

“Belle!”

Belle sighed in relief at the sound of her father’s familiar brogue. He was standing over her in an instant, his eyes wet from shed tears.

“Oh my girl! My darling girl thank God you’re alright.”

He hugged her from the awkward position and Belle wished more than anything that she could return the affection.

“Papa, what’s going on? Why can’t I move?”

Her father was still for a moment before he smiled gently.

Falsely.

“They’re still running tests. We’ll know something in a few hours.”

Belle forced herself not to cry. She couldn’t cry now. She had too many gaps to fill.

“What about Mr. Gold?”

Moe French’s face turned hard, his jaw setting in a deep frown.

“Don’t worry about him. Just focus on resting and getting better.”

“Is he okay though?” Belle persisted.

“Yes.” Moe answered simply. “Now rest. I’m going to call and tell the guys that you’re okay.”

Belle smiled at the mention of her manly trio. She hoped Jefferson wasn’t blaming himself for the accident. She let her muddled thoughts lull her back to sleep, hoping again that Gold would be there when she awoke.

-,-,-,-,-

Mr. Gold laid in bed of the dingy hospital room, doing a mental checklist of all he had to do and pulling at the restraints on his wrists.

As soon as he awoke from a drug-induced sleep, his first instinct was to pick up the hospital phone and call Dove with orders to tell Bae he was in the hospital and that he was alright (which was only a half-lie) and take him to the Nolan’s immediately.

It was only after he hung up the phone that he noticed that his leg was heavily bandaged and in a sling. He didn’t allow himself to panic, or the fill the lighting-sharp pain that shot through his entire body as he released his leg from the sling, crying out in agony.

If he was in such a shape, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what state Belle was in.

Luckily, there had been a wheelchair right beside his bed, and though his body begged him not to, he edged himself in it. By the time he had his IV pole stable, he felt ready to pass out.

_Belle. Stay awake. Find Belle._

 He rolled out of his room and began looking into rooms. He discovered from peeking over the circulatory desk that he was in the ICU and that Belle was right down the hall. He wheeled there as fast as his arms would take him but found his mission compromised by Dr. Whale.

After “Nurse Ratchet” as he recalled calling her, slipped a heavy dose of morphine in his IV, he passed out for another unspecified amount of time and found himself restrained to the bed. He was so grateful now that he had called Dove first; Bae did not need to see his father in such a state.

Now, he was alone with his thoughts and fears and self-hatred, not knowing the extent of Belle’s diagnosis. If she didn’t recover from this…

He cursed himself repeatedly. This was all his fault. He knew the storm was coming and that the back roads would flood. He should have gotten their earlier or suggested they stay in town. He should have never let Belle offer to make that delivery. He should have done more to keep her safe.

A knock on the door knocked him from this guilt-trip. He arched his neck up just enough to see Sherriff Graham entered the room.

“Mr. Gold?”

“Sheriff.” Gold gruffed.

“Dr. Whale said you were comprehensive enough to give a statement, what say you?”

“I need to know what’s wrong with Belle.”

“Mr. Gold, you know that-”

“For God’s sake man!” Gold shouted. “I’m the one who pulled her from the car and drug her up a hill and carried her to the hospital with a fucking screw sticking out of my leg! The least you bastards could do is tell me if what I did payed off! Please, is she okay!”

Graham rubbed his temples. When he had arrived at the hospital earlier that day, he had been on his normal rounds, checking that the foundation had power. When he was getting out of his car, he saw Mr. Gold, usually so calm and collected, limping to the hospital with no other than Belle French in his arms, screaming for help.

He signaled for a nurse and then ran to the pair, taking Belle from his arms just in time for the man to pass out at his feet. It had truly been an unbelievable site, the one that the hospital would not stop buzzing about.

_The town monster and that sweet girl who works at the pizza parlor. Can you imagine?_

_Didn’t he lend her his car last month? Unbelievable!_

_I bet she’s sleeping with him for the use of it._

_Do you think he did that to her?_

_Oh that poor girl…_

Graham glanced behind his shoulder before leaning closer to Gold.

“She’s stable and expected to make a full recovery, give or take a few step-backs. Her father’s with her right now.”

Gold nearly cried with relief. Belle would be alright.

“Now, will you please give me your statement?”

Gold nodded, the relief flooding his chest making him more susceptible to cooperation.

“I’ve been lending the French’s my car while their car insurance sorts itself out.”

“So I’ve heard.” Graham commented, remember the first time he had seen the quiet pizza delivery girl behind the wheel of Gold’s signature Cadillac. He wasn’t sure whether to ask her if she had stolen the car or laugh it off, but a quick chat with Merlin had given him all the answers he needed.

“We were going on a date, but someone called in to change their order from a carryout to a delivery. I think his name was Heller, or something.”

Graham nodded, making a note to ask the pizza parlor.

“We were driving and the rain started. It got so bad that I told Belle to pull over and when she did she drove straight off a cliff.”

Graham paused when Gold’s voice broke. “Mr. Gold? Do you need a nurse?”

“I shouldn’t have let her drive!” he sobbed. “I should have never let her get on the rode!”

Graham turned his head. He could stare into a criminal’s eyes all day and not blink, but his resolve always shook when he saw tears. He took a moment to breathe before he grabbed a box of tissues off the night stand, passing them to Gold.

“Please, let me see her.”

“Soon.” Graham promised not quite meeting his eyes. “Now, where did you crash?”

“Um, the road leading to the guest mansions.”

“Madison Lane.” Graham filled in, closing his note pad. “I’ll go talk to Whale about letting you see her, but I can’t make any promises.”

Mr. Gold nodded, grateful for the Sheriff’s assistance and that no threats had to come into play.

Graham paused just outside the door. “And Mr. Gold? It’s not your fault.”

Mr. Gold heard the door close. Despite the Sheriff’s reassurance, he didn’t believe one word of it.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-

A sharp shrill awoke Belle yet again. For one terrifying moment, she truly thought Death was announcing its presence and was about to take her.

“For lamb’s sake Jefferson!” she heard her father roar.

“You didn’t say she was in a damn body cast!” she heard Jefferson cry.

“She’s not in a body cast you bullock!” Will boomed. “It’s just her neck!”

“Would you all shut your yaps before you wake her!’ Moe barked.

Belle’s lip twitched in amusement. “Too late.” Belle yawned.

In an instant, four wide-eyed heads hovered over her.

“Jeez Belle I am so sorry!”

“No Jeff, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who drove off the side of the road.”

Moe’s eyes widened. “ **You** were driving? I was getting ready to go smother that bastard Gold with a pillow for doing this to you!”

“You were? You said Will and I were-”

Will reached over and covered Jefferson’s mouth, smiling very suspiciously at Belle.

Belle rolled her eyes. “Can we get a nurse in here? Looking at all of you like this is giving me a migraine.”

“Looking at them gives me a migraine too.” Merlin commented.

“Ha!” Jefferson exclaimed, picking up a control on the bed-table.

“Jefferson don’t mess with that!” Merlin ordered.

“One of these should help her sit up, right?”

Belle knew in that instant that she was going to die.

The bottom half of the bed began to lift, and Belle could feel a slight tingle in the crook of her legs.

“Jefferson I will fire you!” Moe shouted.

“Wrong button, sorry.” He pressed another and the middle of the bed began to arch. Belle could feel her spine crack. She heard a brief scuffle and everyone yelling at Jefferson to “put the damn remote down” before the top half of the bed lifted, the middle and lower returning to their original setting. Her head spun as she became adjusted to the new setting but she could make out her father and Merlin steadying her and Will snatching the remote from Jefferson’s hand.

“At least I know I have some feeling left.” Belle commented.

“You’re all going to give me an aneurism!” Moe French cried, falling into the chair beside the bed.

Belle smothered her giggle for her father’s sake. Despite the stressful situation, she was thrilled to see her small family together. No matter what the future held, they’d be here for her, or at _French Bread’s_ for the business.

A knock at the door broke the group from the banter and Belle’s throat tightened as Dr. Whale entered the room.

“Good, you’re sitting up.” Dr. Whale commented, missing how Jefferson stepped behind Merlin. “How do you feel?”

“Numb but okay.” Belle stated. “I can feel tingles here and there, but I still can’t move anything.”

Dr. Whale nodded. “That’s expected. You have two bruised vertebra, which is what’s causing the paralysis. As they heal, you should gradually regain movement. Worst case scenario is that you’ll have to go to physical therapy and wear a neck brace.”

The whole room sighed at the proclamation. Though Belle wasn’t looking forward to the therapy and the brace, she was ecstatic that she hadn’t lost her independence.

“Good thing our health insurance is better than our car insurance.” Moe muttered.

“What about Mr. Gold?” Belle asked. “He was here earlier but…is he okay?”

“I can’t give you the details,” the doctor warned. “But I can promise he’s going to make a full recovery. When he agrees to stop cursing my staff, I’ll let him pay a visit.”

Belle nodded gratefully, both excited and nervous about seeing her somewhat-but-not-quite-boyfriend again. She didn’t know what to expect. Would he be angry about the car, about his injuries her reckless driving had caused? Would he even want to speak?

“Alright!” Moe announced when the doctor left. “We have business to take care of! First of all, until further notice, _French Bread’s_ delivery service is canceled.”

“Oh shit.” Jefferson whispered to Will.

“I’m also going to have to cut back the business hours.” Moe said regrefully. “I’ll be taking care of Belle when she comes home, and won’t put the work on you all.”

Belle felt guilt churn in her gut. She knew instantly that Jefferson would suffer the most with a daughter to feed, and Will might have to postpone his wedding.

Merlin stood from his chair. “Sir, we can handle it.”

“Yeah.” Jefferson jumped in. “We’ve been fixing up a bike already, we can deliver off that. And I can bring my daughter to work so that we won’t have to cut hours…”

“Dad.” Belle said quietly. “Let them try. There’s no reason to stop production just because I’m out of commission.”

“I have to my girl.” Moe sighed. “I’m going to have to be at home to help you get up and down the stairs until your paralysis heals.”

“They have assistant living!” Belle protested. “Our insurance should cover it; we’ll find out!”

“Mr. French, we can figure something else out.” Merlin continued to protest.

As the _French Bread_ staff negotiated, Belle wished she had lost her ability to hear in the accident. All of them were standing right in front of her debating what they would do about her family business.

Her legacy.

 Her responsibility.

 And she couldn’t even add input because she couldn’t move!

Before, she thought she had only ruined Mr. Gold’s life, but apparently, she had ruined four. Her family and closest friends at that.

She wished briefly that her lungs would stop working when she went to bed tonight. That way she wouldn’t have to face the damage she caused.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-                                                                                   

The following morning, Belle woke alive and breathing, and honestly, she wasn’t too disappointed. A little sleep had helped clear the dark, negative thoughts from her head and gave her a new outlook on her life. Running away or cowering under the blankets wouldn’t solve anything.

She took a deep breath and began a mental checklist of all that to fix: the schedule for the pizza parlor, paying the hospital bill, apologizing to Gold…

The last one was the one she was looking forward to the least. She decided however, that no matter how he reacted, even if he swore her off completely, she’d stay strong and do what she had to do to fix what she’d done. If that meant using her paycheck to make car payments until dhe was 50, so be it.

A knock on the door broke her from her mental check-listing.

“Um, hi.” She greeted to the air. “There’s a remote beside my bed. The button farthest left sits me up. If you could…”

A squeaking followed. A wheelchair?

Belle felt herself be slowly lifted and Belle pulse stilled as the person at her bedside became clearer.

“Gold.” Belle gasped, tears stinging her eyes at the bruises and stiches across his body.

Mr. Gold’s non-black eye gazed over her. Her neck was in a brace and her right eyebrow was stitched. Her arms were bandaged and one of her fingers was in a splint.

“Oh Belle.” Gold cried, rolling as close to her bedside as he could. “I am so sorry sweetheart.”

Belle focused in on his tear-stained face, tears that, just a moment ago, she thought would be out of rage.

“Why are you sorry, I’m the one that got us into this. You wanted me to pull over.”

“I should have never let us go out into that mess.”

“You were supporting me. This is my fault, not yours. Don’t try to blame yourself.”

Gold shook his head. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you. What did Dr. Whale say?”

Tears leaked down Belle’s face before she could stop them. “Temporary paralysis.”

“Oh God.” Gold cried shaking his head.

“It’s okay.” Belle tried to sooth. “I’m going to be okay. What about you? Why is all your hair gone?”

Gold let out a wet laugh, running his fingers over the inch of hair he had left. “I got cut from the glass. They had to cut it all off to stitch me up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Gold shrugged. “I was due for a cut.”

Belle laughed, her heart less heavy.

“What else?”

He tapped his let. “One of the screws come lose in my leg. It was a simple fix; I should be out of the wheelchair in the next week.”

“We’re a complete mess.” Belle sighed.

“I’m starting to think we’re made for each other.”

Belle managed to arch an eyebrow in curiosity. “Mr. Gold, are you flirting with me? While I’m in a neck brace of all things?”

“Why not?” Mr. Gold inquired. “You’re so beautiful.”

Belle’s cheeks heated with the compliment. They hadn’t had the opportunity to completely develop the teasing, romantic aspect of their relationship (which Belle had planned to fix during their second date). They usually said what they needed to through smiles and small actions, like the pat on his hand she’d give him when he’d hand over the keys for her deliveries. It was simple and uncomplicated but far from the intimacy she wanted with the man who, not only did she have deep-seated desires for, but made her life less-hectic and more fun.

“I…”

“Mr. Gold!”

Gold glanced around to see Moe French’s powerful figure standing in the doorway, his mass barely undermined by the handful of pink peonies he was carrying.

“I…wasn’t expecting you.”

Gold carefully wheeled himself around, staring up at the large man.

Belle noticed that even with her father’s height, Mr. Gold still had an air of superiority and strength, even with a casted leg. She nearly giggled at the contrast, but the look on her father’s face smothered her humor.

“Papa,” Belle stated calmly. “Mr. Gold was just asking me how I was fairing.”

“Of course, of course.” Moe nodded as he arranged the flowers on the bed-table.

Belle noticed the tension in his face. He couldn’t be that nervous about Mr. Gold, could he?

“Everything okay?”

“Of course!” Moe stated instantly, not meeting her eyes. “Everything’s great!”

Belle glanced at Mr. Gold.

“He’s lying!” Gold mouthed, causing Belle’s lip to twitch in amusement. Leave it to a lawyer.

“What is it Papa?” Belle inquired in tone that left no room for more falsities.

Moe sighed, sitting in the chair beside his daughter. “I talked to the insurance company. They said that your hospital stay will be partially covered, but it won’t cover any therapy or assistant living.”

Belle breathed a curse, wishing she could cover her face to hide the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry my girl,” Moe patted her non-bandaged hand. “we’ll figure it all out.”

“Dad, we can’t just put the business on hold. _French Bread_ needs you. And we can’t just cut the guys hours.”

“I know all that. But I can’t just run a business while my daughter needs me! What if you fall trying to go down the stairs? What if you have a muscle spasm and hit your head?”

Mr. Gold listened as Moe French listed all the possible ends Belle could meet. His heart surged for the family. He knew if anything like this happened to Bae—God forbid—he would never leave the house, even after Bae recovered. Business be damned.

“Perhaps,” he perked up when Moe paused, “I could be of assistance?”

Moe held up a hand, his expression stolid. “Thank you Mr. Gold, but you’ve done enough.”

“Dad,” Belle hissed. “This was not his fault. Let him speak.”

“I won’t have you adding to your debt!”

“Your daughter owes me nothing, Mr. French.” Mr. Gold stated, quickly slipping into business mode. “I have a solution to your dilemma, if you’ll allow me.”

Belle gave her father a hard look and he sighed agitatedly.

“I have a downstairs parlor that, with a few minor adjustments, I could turn into a guest room. It’s right near the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom. You’d be set. And considering I’ll probably be needing it too, I can take care of the physical therapy.”

Belle wasn’t sure what to say. He was practically asking her to move in with him. They hadn’t even been on their second date yet!

“I…”

“Absolutely not!” Moe boomed. “I will not have my daughter living in sin!”

“Oh my gods, Papa!” Belle groaned, embarrassed.

“I do have a 15-year-old son, Mr. French. We’ll hardly be unsupervised.”

Belle snorted. Somehow Gold always managed to ease her spirits.

It was a scary thing though. She’d be living with the man who made her heart soar and her womanhood tremble. Strangely enough, being temporarily paralyzed and in a neck-brace hardly stilled those feelings.

“What about your work?” Belle inquired.

“I’m sure the great town of Storybrooke can last a few weeks without their antiques and collectables. And Mr. Dove can handle the rent.”

Belle nodded, somewhat more satisfied that she wouldn’t be a burden. “I’ll do it.” Belle said before her father could protest anymore.

“Belle-”

“It’s my health, dad. And it’s for the good of the business. I’m not going to let it suffer just so I can be taken care of.”

Moe still looked unconvinced, and down-right against it. He looked back and forth between the two and shook his head, stomping out of the room.

Belle sighed. “He’ll come around.”

“I hope so.” Gold said, turning back to Belle. “His visits will be very awkward if he doesn’t.”

Belle chuckled, but then remembered the seriousness of the situation.

“Why are you doing this for me? I’ve been doing nothing but taking advantage of you since we started all of this.”

“You can’t take advantage if a service is offered.” Gold stated in a business-like fashion.

“You do realize what you offered?” Belle scoffed. “I’ll be living in your home, using your…things. Are you sure you want that?”

“We’ve been sharing a car for weeks now and I’ve had no problems, up until yesterday that is.”

“Exactly! I could set your kitchen on fire or flood your bathroom! I’m cursed!”

“You’re not cursed.” Gold  laughed. “You’ve just had a string of undeserved bad luck.” He wheeled himself closer and placed a hand over hers.

Belle wished she could feel it.

“Let me take some of that burden away.”

“It’s not your…”

Belle sighed. She’d said this already, multiple times in fact . It never seemed to get through to him.

“Responsibility, I know. But Belle, you don’t deserve to be weighed down with all that hardship. You’re too kind and giving.”

“So are you. Do you really want to take on another burden?”

“You’re not a burden, Belle. You’re my friend, and I want to help you.”

Belle stared into his brown eye, wincing at the bruised, purple one. If he really wanted to do this for her, what was the harm in humoring him? Maybe if she’d stay put in one place, she wouldn’t cause any more trouble.

“Fine. I’ll stay with you, but just until I can walk again.”

Mr. Gold smiled, looking smugly pleased with himself.

“Looks like we’re going to be roommates.”

The comment filled Belle’s stomach with heat and her mind with very untraditional thoughts.

Gold lifted her hand and laid a gentle peck to the bruised skin. “I have to go make some calls. I’ll come back later, if you’d like.”

“I…would.”  Belle croaked, just barely feeling his lips on her hand. She watched him wheel away, waiting until the door closed before she let out the bubble of nervous laughter expanding in her chest.

Starting Wednesday, she’d be roommates with her somewhat-but-not-quite-boyfriend.

The guys were going to flip!

 


	6. Rising Crust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle moves in with Gold's for her recovery and has a late-night pizza making session with Bae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it really been a year since I updated this? Damn I suck XD

 

The one week of mandatory recovery and therapy had to be the slowest and most boring time of Belle’s life.

Sure there were some interesting moments, like when Jefferson brought his daughter Grace over to paint her toenails (sparkly and messy but still appreciated) and she cried from being able to feel the tickling of the brush. Or when Will snuck a bag of plastic stars from the children’s ward and glued them to the ceiling above her bed. It was a much better site than the blasé roof, even if she did get a few curious looks from the nurses.

Merlin did his best to stop by between his breaks, but he helping Moe carry the business while she was out of commission. She swore if she ever came across a hefty inheritance from a distant mysterious relative, she’d sign it away to him. Well, maybe two thirds of it. Girl had to pay her bills after all.

Her most consistent visits were from her father, who had reluctantly come around to Belle temporarily moving in with Mr. Gold, and Mr. Gold himself.

Moe French would spend roughly an hour at Belle’s bedside, usually texting Merlin with status updates on the business or what things to pack up for Belle. It was quiet and Belle saw his eyes maybe twice, but it wasn’t as tense as it could have been and he always kissed her goodbye.

Mr. Gold’s visits were much more pleasant. He would roll into the room as soon as Moe left, carrying with him some kind of treat his right-hand man Dove would smuggle in to share. Sometimes, if his medicine didn’t have him too lightheaded, and if she wasn’t too exhausted from physical therapy, he’d read whatever magazines the waiting room had on hand. She particularly liked the cooking magazines.

“Okay, read the strawberry tart recipe again.” Belle requested, slowing jotting down the ingredients. She had begun to regain movement in her limbs on her second day, and with a little help from the nurses, she could sit up in bed. Walking was still a challenge, but Dr. Whale was lending her a walker to assist her until she was healed enough to walk on her own.

Mr. Gold chuckled at her enthusiasm, flipping the page back. “You do know I can just rip them out, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Belle gasped.

Mr. Gold shook his head in amusement. “1¼ cups of flour…”

Belle watched him in appreciation. He was able to open his black eye now, and most of his stitches had been removed. The only noticeable proof of last week’s catastrophe was the scabbed indention above his eye that would soon become a scar. Despite the horrible way he had received it, Belle couldn’t help but thing he’d look rather handsome with a few rustic scars.

A knock on the door cut Mr. Gold off from his reading. He and Belle turned to see Dr. Whale smiling at them.

“Yes?” Gold growled.

The doctor stiffened and flipped through his clipboard. “You and Miss French will be ready to check out this afternoon.”

“Bloody brilliant!” Mr. Gold exclaimed as he rolled closer to the doctor. “I’ll take the release forms now.”

“In a moment. I have to read you a few check-out policies, procedure you know.”

“Oh for the love of…” Mr. Gold held his tongue, not wanting to stress Belle or lose his temper in front of her.

“Could I at least start filling them out? I promise I won’t let him leave.” Belle negotiated, amused.

The doctor looked back and forth between the couple before sighing and handing Mr. Gold the forms.

“Please don’t make me lose my license.”

“I never make promises, only deals.” Mr. Gold replied, rolling backwards to Belle’s bedside. He was becoming too skilled in a wheelchair and needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Don’t be cruel, he’s only doing his job.” Belle chastised Mr. Gold as soon as the doctor left.

Gold leveled the clipboard and started filling out the papers with a mutter of irritation.

Belle only laughed. If she was going to be living with him for an unspecific amount of time, she’d have to get used to his bouts of playful pouting. It was amazing to think that they hadn’t been dating long at all, and unofficially moving in together would undoubtedly bring out some of their more unappealing traits.

Within the hour, Belle and Mr. Gold were being rolled out the hospital. Mr. Gold was swearing at the tight-lipped, stern nurse that he could “bloody well walk with his cane”.

“Hospital policy.” The nurse barked, all but dumping him in the drop-off zone. Mr. Gold jumped from the chair, growling as he steadied himself on his cane and limped to Belle’s side.

“The nerve.” He huffed, hiding a grin when Belle laughed into her hand.

“Are you sure you should be walking?” Belle inquired, nodding to his heavily bandaged leg underneath his expensive pants leg. Dr. Whale had insisted they dress comfortably until their injuries healed, yet Mr. Gold was dressed to the t’s in his nice clothes why Belle had swung for a gently worn sundress.

“I’m fine, really.” Mr. Gold assured, though he leaned more heavily on his cane. “I sprained it more than anything. None of the screws were bent in anyway. I won’t even need therapy.”

Belle nodded and looked down guiltily. She felt Gold tuck her hair back and kiss the edge of her ear, the effort causing him to shake.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

Belle smiled, picking up the hand resting on the back of the wheelchair and giving it kiss. “My hero. But, you really should sit down.”

Mr. Gold pulled his discarded wheelchair closer to Belle and sat down with a relieved grumble.

Conversation seized between them and in no time, they watched in surprise as Mr. Gold’s Cadillac pulled around the drop-off zone.

“How…” Belle gasped when it rolled in more closely. Other than the slightly discolored grill, it looked exactly as it had before the accident.

“Billy the mechanic owed me a favor.” Mr. Gold shrugged. “He did a lot better than I thought he would.”

Belle nodded as a tall man, presumably Dove, stepped from the driver’s seat. Belle had only seen him a few times during her deliveries but had never had the opportunity to speak to him more personally.

“Mr. Gold,” he nodded professionally, turning a light smile down to Belle. “Miss French.”

“Hello.” Belle smiled back, his tall height along with her wheelchair sitting causing her head to spin.

Mr. Gold stood from the chair and stepped over to the car, intending to be a gentleman and open the back door. However, he found the back seat occupied by none other than his son.

“Baelfire.” Gold greeted sternly. “Is there an early release day I forgot about or are you skipping school?”

“Let’s go with the first one.” Bae smirked as he slid from the back. “You look good for a guy who nearly got wrapped around a tree.”

“Not funny.” He growled, motioning him to stand aside so that Belle could slide in.

She took Gold’s hand as Dove released her into Gold’s grip. She felt stiff from the effort, but more embarrassed that it took three people to get her into a car. She hoped she could be more independent during her stay at Gold’s. She refused to be a burden to anyone, especially her somewhat-boyfriend and his son.

“I should probably sit in the back with Miss Belle.” Bae whispered. “Wouldn’t want you two to get too excited while you’re in recovery.”

Belle bit back a giggled while Mr. Gold’s face erupted in flame.

“One more crack like that and I’m going to un-overlook you playing hooky today.” He warned, not meeting Belle’s eyes as he crawled into the front seat.

The ride was quiet and slow, and Belle was thankful to see the outside world. Her stomach flopped a bit when they eased into the driveway of the salmon mansion. Before her and Mr. Gold’s relationship—or what any rational person would call it—began, she used to be so excited and giddy at the thought of a few stolen seconds with him. As soon as the pizza was out of her hands, they were just Belle and Mr. Gold, not pizza delivery girl and customer.

Now they were going to be temporary roommates, and while some women would see that scenario as an erotic fantasy come to life, Belle couldn’t help but feel sickeningly nervous.

“It feels strange pulling up without a pizza in my hands.” Belle smirked, hoping humor would lift her mood.

Luckily, Mr. Gold chuckled and sent her a gentle smile through the rearview mirror.

“Speaking of pizza, do you think we could still order one tonight?” Baelfire inquired. “It is Friday after all.”

A tense air filled the car, and Mr. Gold could see Belle’s nails digging into the leather seating. Belle’s father nor Merlin had told her what they were doing about deliveries, but judging by how stressed they both were (yes, Belle could tell no matter how much they tried to hide it), probably not very good.

 “Miss French.”

Belle looked up to find Dove standing over her, offering his hand with a gentle smile.

Dove helped her sit on the edge of the seat while he grabbed her walker from the trunk. Belle felt so embarrassed to have to use it but noted to herself to count her blessings that she hadn’t been paralyzed in the crash. She’d only have to use it for a few weeks, and would be back to rolling pizza dough in a month, give or take. She hoped to move the process up a bit, hoped she could push herself to make a miraculous recovery.

“Mr. Knight dropped a bag off this morning.” Dove stated as he helped her get a grip on her walker.

“Yes, my father mentioned he would yesterday.” Belle said with a hiss.

Mr. Gold seethed as he tried to get out of the car by himself, his leg screaming in protest. It was time for more of his pain meds and that would mean an early night, the last thing he wanted with Belle’s first night in his home.

Baelfire stood beside his father and watched Dove escort Belle into the house, her bag in his opposite hand.

“What’s with the frown?” Baelfire smirked. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Gold glared at his son. “Of course not. Don’t you have homework?”

“It’s Friday.” Bae reminded him as he swayed to the house. “And I’m ordering pizza.”

“Fine.” Gold agreed with a sigh. He was so tired he would probably sign over the deed to the house if Bae asked for it. “I’ll send Dove to pick it up.”

Bae turned, confused. “Why can’t we have it delivered?”

“Just…I don’t know about their delivery status right now.” Gold sighed as he limped into the house. “Just go with Dove, alright?”

Bae sighed, sensing that there was more to the story decided to push for details on an empty stomach. “Fine.”

Gold looked around the corner, nodding in approval at how the furniture had been moved. The room he had Belle set up in was more of a small parlor connected to the downstairs bathroom. He had been meaning to take out the wall that separated the room and the living room but was not glad he had put it off.

He stepped into the room to find down waiting by the bathroom door.

“She’s changing.” Dove stated simply.

Gold nodded. “I owe you a great debt for all you’ve done.”

Dove shrugged. “I’ll remember that the next time my nephew’s soccer team sells chocolate bars.”

Mr. Gold chuckled, his breath stilling when the bathroom door opened and Belle stepped out. She wore a loose pair of men’s pajamas, the little pocket on the shirt ripped in the middle. Her feet were bare and her hair mused, and she had forgone the walker to take on the short space.

She looked absolutely stunning.

“Comfortable?” he teased.

“My limbs feel like noodles. I feel great.” she laughed, using Dove’s offered hand to help her sit on the bed.

“Bae wanted to pick up pizza for dinner, is that okay with you?”

Belle smiled sheepishly, tucking her curls behind her ear. “I just took a pain pill…”

“Say no more.” Gold smiled.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all, I think I may follow suit.”

Belle nodded, the pill kicking in faster than she thought it would.

“I’ll…check on you later?” Gold suggested.

“I’d like that.” Belle said drowsily, carefully curling her legs onto the bed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her until Dove closed the door.

“This is going to be an interesting few weeks.” Dove said, the teasing nature of his voice a earning him a glare from his employer.

“I’m going to take a pill.” Gold growled.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

When Belle opened her eyes again, it was dark outside and her head was swimming. She groggily felt on the nightstand for her phone. She blinked the itchy tears away until her eyes adjusted to the light. 2:11 a.m. Damn, she had slept the whole day!

Belle groaned, wishing she would fall right back to sleep. However, she was wide awake now, and her back was cramping. She needed to walk around, maybe get a snack from the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since her barely passable breakfast at the hospital.

Her muscles cramped as she sat up, her lungs feeling smaller. She took several deep breaths before she reached for her walker.

She did her best to enter the kitchen quietly, which was hard to do with a clunky walker loudly tapping on the hardwood. After some hassling she found the light switch and was immediately floored with awe at the site of Gold’s antique kitchen.

A large, stainless steel refrigerator purred near the back door while several cooking tools awaited silently to be used. Her kitchen apartment above French Bread could probably fit in this kitchen, and she bet all the eyes on the stove worked as well.

With renewed excitement she limped to the pantry and searched its contents. She hummed, noting a packet of yeast on the top. Gripping the walker with one hand, she stretched on her toes to reach the things she needed, hissing as her back cramped from the effort.

“Need a hand with that?”

Belle twisted around, grabbing her walker before she could fall.

Baelfire hissed. “Sorry.”

“No it’s fine.” Belle gasped, stepping aside. He was just about her height, maybe a few inches shorter than his father, but he reached the yeast packet with less effort than she had.

“Thanks.” Belle smiled. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Bae assured, leaning on the counter. “My sleep cycle’s been off this week with Dad in the hospital.”

Belle looked at the teen, his curly hair disrupted from restless sleep, the color under his eyes too dark for a boy his age.

“So whatcha making?” Bae inquired, smiling brightly despite the later hour.

“Don’t laugh, but I was going to make pizza. But if you want something else…”

“No, pizza sounds great. The one I ordered earlier was…I don’t know, bland?”

Belle chuckled. “Dad must have made the sauce. It’s his recipe but he never makes it right.”

Bae chuckled. “Is everything you guys make your dad’s creation?”

Belle shrugged as she scooped flour out of the properly labeled container on the counter. “Technically yes, but Merlin and I add our own flair to each thing we cook. The recipe’s always different each time, but there’s always a few ingredients that never change.” She said with a wink.

Bae nodded. “Anything I can do to help?”

Belle hummed. “Do you have a food processor?”

Bae nodded and opened one of the cabinets, pulling the processor out with ease.

“Great. Get out what you want on the pizza. Do we have enough cheese?”

Bae pulled a pile of things from the refrigerator, including a nearly empty bag of shredded mozzarella.

Belle surveyed what else he had brought out and nodded as she put a recipe together in her head.

“How fresh is that cream?”

Bae bravely opened the carton and smelled the dairy substance, sighing with relief when he didn’t smell anything sour.

“Great, find me a pan and some butter and we can make alfredo pizza.”

“Sweet!” Bae cheered, obeying Belle’s instructions.

Soon enough the teen was helping her chop chicken and kneed pizza dough, chuckling when she flicked flour in his curls.

“This is great.” Bae said as Belle sprinkled oregano on the pizza. “I’ve been living off diner food and cereal all week. I never though I’d miss home cooking so much.”

Belle paused in her pizza-making, her eyes looking over his lanky frame.

“Baelfire I’m…I’m sorry about all of this.”

Bae looked around the kitchen, confused. “The flour will come off the counters.”

Belle scoffed. “No, I mean for the accident. For borrowing your dad’s car. For his injury. Everything.”

Bae stared at her, unsure what he could say to make her feel better. Whenever he and Emma fought she would just punch him in the arm and everything would be fine afterwards. Hitting her, even playfully, did not look like a good idea in her condition.

“Really, Belle, it’s fine.” Bae assured awkwardly. “It’s not like you’re a crazy girlfriend who crashed my dad’s car to keep him to yourself.”

Belle laughed at the idea, turning to put the pizza in the oven.  

“I mean, I guess I was a little mad at first, but I got over it. My dad really likes you, and spending these last few weeks with you has made him happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. I’m sure there was no lost love being in the hospital with you, even if you were doped up half the time.”

Belle chuckled. “A third of the time, actually. Between you and me though, your dad’s a real lightweight.”

Bae snorted. “I bet. And while we’re dropping secrets, that bit about me living off of diner food was a white lie. Emma brought me some of her mom’s cooking to keep me going.”

“Ah, and I bet she made you dessert afterwards.” Belle teased.

Bae’s blush was as read as pizza sauce. “Well…”

“Unless you want to be grounded until you graduate, I suggest you not answer that.”

Belle and Baelfire both turned around to find Gold leaning against the doorframe, eyeing the messy countertops and his flour-dusted son with amusement.

“Bit late for a midnight snack, isn’t it?” he teased, limping in.

“More like too early.” Belle said. “It’s just after three.”

“Indeed. Smells good whatever it is.”

“Chicken alfredo pizza, enough for three.” Belle blushed as he took the seat beside her. This was the first time she had seen him wearing anything but a three-piece suit. It was almost an honor, seeing a piece of him that no one but his son had seen.

“Excellent.” he smiled, turning to his son, dusting some of the flour out of his hair. “Glad to see you’re taking up a trade, m’boy.”

“Yep,” Belle teased. “I’ll have him trained as a sous chef in no time.

Bae rolled his eyes as he went to check on the pizza. Adults were so weird.

In no time the pizza was sliced and passed around, conversation and napkins flowing easily. It was domestic if not unique scene considering the late hour. Unbeknownst to each participant, there was a mutual want to make the event—both the living arrangements and late-night pizza-making, mind you—much more permanent.

 


End file.
